


Mimic

by SilentFemme



Series: A Different Set of Circumstances [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Desmond Miles, Desmond is just rolling with it, F/M, Female Desmond Miles, Gen, He is ok though, Healer Desmond Miles, It is also Juno's Fault somehow, It was Juno's Fault, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Non-binary it is then, There is no alcohol strong enough to get Desmond drunk enough for this to make sense, Time Travel, more tags as this goes on, nope never mind, or is it she is ok
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-03-09 12:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18917485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilentFemme/pseuds/SilentFemme
Summary: I am more than just the sum of my ancestors' skills and my failures. I have talents too. I may not be pleased with the cards dealt to me in life, but I will make the most of them and adapt.orWhere Desmond dies. Gets sent back in time by Juno and Minerva. And gets turned into a girl, because why not. Gets mistaken as Altair's younger sibling. Raises a third faction in the Assassin-Templar war and falls in love with Malik, I guess.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [I was born for this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16094690) by [esama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama). 



Prologue

_Mimic_

_verb_

to imitate (someone or their actions or words)

* * *

Mimic

* * *

Desmond. That is the name my mother gave me, but at times I feel less like Desmond and more like Altair, Ezio, and Connor. Who are they you may ask? Well, they are my ancestors, and they were Assassins. There is no changing that and I guess I am an Assassin too. At least Rebecca and Shaun seem to think so, but my father doesn't care about that only that I have the experience and memories of three other great Master Assassins swimming around in my head. It doesn't matter that I have never passed the rank of Disciple or that I ran away at 16. All that matters is that I have the genetic memories of Assassins long dead and that I am the  _"chosen one"_  who needs to save the world. It doesn't matter, not when all they see me as the sum of my ancestor's abilities, experience, and my fears and limitations. But I am not! I have my own abilities too. Abilities that Altair, Ezio, and even Connor never had. Useful abilities too not to understate the difficulty and usefulness of mixing drinks and serving them. I know medicine! No, I am not a doctor, but rather a qualified healer. I know all the herbal medicine and how to create and mix natural remedies for many, many illnesses as well as how to remove bullets, arrowheads, shrapnel and other objects from a person without damaging them too badly. I also know many more healer related things that would have placed me far above the doctors of Ezio's time and would give Connor's doctors a run for their money, and I would make Altair's doctors worship me as a healer god. Not to brag of course. All this is great and all, but I doubt that is what they would seem like a useful skill for an Assassin to have. It may be a good skill, but not a "useful" skill. So instead I offer up a skill that I have developed and perfected - a skill I call Mimic. I can change my gait, accent, and pitch of my voice to blend into crowds perfectly or disappear from sight. I would also like to say that my skills at mimicking make me very flexible and adaptable. Anyways I have to go Rebbeca is calling me. I think it is time for me to get back into the Animus and continue exploring Connor's memories to save the world. Desmond signing out.

* * *

Mimic

* * *

 


	2. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guide:  
> Normal speak (plain text)  
> Isu speak (Bold and Italic)  
> Desmond/others speaking in a different language (Italic)  
> Thoughts (apostrophes)  
> Writing (Italic, no quotation marks)

 

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Pain burned through my body as soon as I place my hand on the Eye. It felt as if my arm was being burned. As if it was absorbing the power of the sun. To say it hurt would be an understatement. I don't know for how long I stood there screaming, burning, but finally, I died. At least I think I did. As I open my eyes and see myself in the loading screen of the animus. I am left reeling. I am surprised and more than a little confused. 'Was It all a dream? Had I survived and fallen into a coma again? What is going on?'

 ** _"Hello, Desmond,"_**  says a voice that can only belong to one person – Juno. I freeze. 'What does she want?'

She laughs. I note that It isn't a nice laugh. She smiles down at me and replies to the question that I apparently asked out loud. " ** _You have served me well my cipher and with some begging on Minerva's part I have decided to give you a reward,_** " she says. Her voice echoes through the endless grey.

"What?" I ask with distrust evident in my voice.

 ** _"_** ** _You have a choice, my cipher. Would you accept my gift and get a new life or will you deny it and die?"_** she asks me. The tone of her voice tells me that much pain awaits if I refuse and a chill goes up my spine.

" ** _Accept it,"_**  another voice says. One that I recognize as Minerva's ** _. "No harm will befall you if you accept her offer, Desmond,"_** she assures me.

 **_"_ ** **_Yes, this gift will not harm you, my cipher. This is but rather a gift of a new life. It gives you a second chance at happiness. After all, you deserve it for serving me well,"_ ** _Juno tells me._

"Why would you offer me this?" I ask honestly confused.

 ** _"_** ** _You are far more Isu than human and I have truly become rather fond of you, all things considered,"_** she says scoffing.

I look at her confused.

 ** _"_** ** _Odd as this sounds it is true."_**  I wish to ask more but the look she sends me strongly encourages me not to.

I am hesitant as she has tricked me before. I shoot Minerva a questioning look as if to ask her opinion. She nods at me. I still feel uncertain, but quickly give a nod to Juno. "Yes," I say, "I accept your offer."

Juno gives me a nicer smile, one that still sends chills up my spine. " ** _Good,"_**  she says and reaches towards me. For a second I wonder, 'What have I gotten myself into and then I feel as if I am falling.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

I sit up with a gasp and a groan. My body hurts especially my arm. I smell hay, sand and the faint scent of burning flesh – probably coming from my arm. I open my eyes to see the landscape that I so often saw in Altair's memories – the poor district of Jerusalem. My mouth drops open.

'No. No. No.' I start to panic but manage to stop myself. 'Breathe,' I tell myself. "Think first. What is the situation? What is different? Then adapt," I say calming myself down, barely noticing how my voice is higher than normal.

'Okay, what's first. What is the situation? Well, I'm not in the New York Temple and I was apparently dead. Juno gave me a gift of a new life to "be happy". Okay, where am I?' I take a deep breath and look around me while still sitting against the wall that woke up next to. 'I seem to be in an alleyway. In what I assume is Jerusalem. It stinks.'

I look down at myself and take in what I see. "Okay, I'm wearing my jeans and hoodie. I need to get some robes to blend in, otherwise, I will stand out,' I suddenly snort at that thought. "of course I will stand out. Not only because of the clothes I am wearing, but also with my burnt arm," I say shaking my head.

Curiosity gets the better of me and I bring my burnt arm closer to my face to inspect it. I wince at the pain that shoots through me at the movement. I look closer at it. It is pitch black and still gives off a small scent of burnt flesh. I turn it around ignoring the pain that comes with it. I bring my left hand up to trace the golden circuit-like lines that run over my hand and that I assume runs up the rest of my arm. To my surprise, my burnt skin is cold to the touch and still pliable. Against my better judgment, I flex my right hand's fingers. "Ahhhh," I gasp out at the immense pain that I feel at that action. My eyes sting from unshed tears. I blink them back. "Probably not the best the best idea to use that arm," I whisper to myself.

'Okay Desmond, what else do you have with you? Let's see. I have my messenger bag, my hidden blade, my apple is lying over there, and I have boobs...'

?!

"I HAVE BOOBS?!" My left hands fly downward. 'Yep, I have boobs. Why do I have boobs? Better yet how? This is definitely not good for my brain.' I hear a laugh. I turn my head to where my Apple is lying and I see Juno's hologram standing next to it.

 ** _"_** ** _Yes, you do, my cipher. That is because you are female now,"_**  she states casually as if she was discussing the weather.

"What?" I manage to squeak out.

 **_"_ ** **_Yes, I have also made you younger as to give you a longer lifespan and a better chance at adapting to this time."_ **

"What? Why would you make me a woman?"

 **_"_ ** **_I had to reconstruct your body as using the Eye had rendered it incapable of housing you. So I created a new one for you, unfortunately, this new body seems to have retained your injury from the Eye. It does not matter. The rest of your new frame seems to be functioning well."_ **

"That is fascinating and all, but it doesn't answer my question. Why on earth am I a woman?!"

 ** _"_** ** _I thought you could use the challenge,"_** Juno says with a smirk painting her lips.

I take a deep breath and shout, "SO YOU MADE ME FEMALE TO MESS WITH ME?!"

 ** _"_** ** _Yes, to a certain extent I did, but also I do not know the insides of human male very well. The same goes to the human female, although I know it better than I do the male's,"_** she says waving her hand to the side as if she was shooing the question out of the air.

I give a small shriek. "THEN WHAT AM I!?"

 **_"_ ** **_You are still human, don't worry about that, my cipher. You are designed more like an Isu female than a human, but you are only about 25% more Isu than you were before you died. Which honestly is an improvement."_ **

I pull my hair which was about two or three inches long now, 'Darn it my hair is long and curly again.' "YOU CRAZY WOMEN. YOU CAN'T JUST SWITCH PEOPLE'S GENDERS!"

Her eyes narrow dangerously and I shrink back in fear of the dark aura she gives off ** _." You are lucky that I favor you and that you are my cipher. So I will forgive you for the way you spoke to me. This is the gift I gave you. Use it wisely,"_** she says and she is gone. I am left with goosebumps, a feeling of lostness and what feels like nausea. I stretch out, grab my Apple and pop it into my messenger bag.

"No, Desmond or Desmin. You need to focus. What do need? How do you get it?" I tell myself.

'I need clothes first and a place to sleep. I am a bit hungry, but that can wait. The same goes for a bath. I also need to figure out what year it is. I can't do all that until I get clothes. Okay, clothes I can steal as soon as it starts to get dark.'

"Okay, let's do this," I say getting up and promptly falling on my face...

'So my balance is off, damn.' I try again this time getting up slower, mindful of my wider hips and the extra weight on my chest. I struggle and stumble for a few minutes until I manage to stand up without falling over or stumbling. I try to walk and end up on my face again.

"Damnit Desmond. Desmin? You are great at adapting and here you are on your ass because you can hold your balance while you walk," I say to myself while crossing my arms and pouting. I yelp at the pain that shoots up my right arm. "Oh yeah, that arm isn't the greatest." I frown and after a few tries managed to regain my balance while walking. I have my mimic ability to thank for that. It isn't flawless yet but it will work for now.

I walk out of the alleyway and stick close to the shadows of the buildings. I keep my gait and my air that I give off as nondescript as possible. Slinking through the shadows and avoiding all eyes I come to the housing area. I spy a woman and a man – I assume he is her husband – leaving their house and locking the door.

'There is my target,' I think. I wait for them to be out of sight before I sprint to my target. I notice how I feel lighter and therefore faster in this form although the extra weight at my chest throws my balance off a bit. I reach my target and see that on the second floor of the building there are some windows that I can get through. I look around trying to find something I can use to get up there as I feel hesitant to attempt to scale the building with my injured arm.

There are no ladders but there is a wooden box close to the back window. I get on it and measure the distance to the window. It isn't too high. I can jump up and grab the window sill, but then I will have to pull myself up. I switch my eagle vision on, but there is no alternative. I sigh sadly and accept that I will just have to deal with the pain that I will get from this. I jump and grab the sill with both hands. I ignore the pain and pull myself through the window. I land on the floor and I lie there for a moment as I deal with the pain I inflicted on myself. A sob escapes my throat and I freeze at the sound. I wait to hear if anyone hears. I hear no movement.

'I'm alone then,' I think. 'Good.'

"Okay," I say, "I need male robes because like hell I am going to be a damsel in distress here. I can adapt so adapt I will."

I quickly find the bedroom and dig through the man's clothes. I grab a few robes and underwear. 'Hell, this is uncomfortable,' I think to myself. Before leaving the room I decide to grab a female robe and a few wraps for my breasts as well. "Hell, that is so awkward to think," I say to myself.

I wrap my chest as flat as possible and pull on a set of male robes over my clothes. I stuff the rest of my newly acquired stuff into my messenger bag along with my Apple and throwing knives.

As I take my leave through the front door this time, I spot some bread on their table and I take it, but nothing else I feel bad enough as it is. Then and there I decided that If I need to steal something I will definitely steal it from those that can afford it.

Closing the door behind me I leave and blend seamlessly into the people that are walking the streets still. I walk to the rich district and pickpocket from the people that look like they have money and a single thought flits my mind. 'I need a place to sleep… Maybe I can find a rooftop garden and crash there for the night. No that won't work I have difficulty using my right arm and I don't want to get up early before anyone sees me. '

Before I notice I see that my feet carried me to the Malik's Bureau. Except, was it Malik's yet? I am curious about that fact and against my better judgment, I search for the secret passage that only the den leaders and the Dai know about. 'Aha, there it is. Thank you Altair for not caring about the rules and figuring out where this was,' I think as I go through the passage. I end up in the courtyard. I hear the murmur of talking coming from the main room. I sneak closer and peak through the door.

I see an assassin flinching as another man in the robes of a Dai screams at him. "I DON'T CARE IF YOU HAVE TO DRESS UP AS A WOMEN AND DANCE FOR HIM. IT HAS BEEN THREE DAYS AND STILL, YOU HAVEN'T COMPLETED THE MISSION. GET OUT AND DON'T COME BACK UNTIL IT IS DONE," the Dai screams. He throws a knife at the assassin. The assassin dodges and runs past me quickly scaling the wall and is gone through the opening. I am relieved that he didn't see me. I see the Dai turn back and leave into a room that I know from Altair's memories as Malik's future bedroom.

I make up my mind then and there. I decide to sneak into the storage room/basement. 'At least it will be warmer than outside and in Malik's time it wasn't used much,' I think to myself. I move past the bookshelf and the door to the Dai's room. I come to the door that leads down to the basement. 'How did the builder of this place even manage to make a basement? It sounds impossible for the technology of this century, but whatever. Kudos to the builder I guess.' I slip in through the door and see that large amount of boxes and sacks lying about. I move deeper into the room until I am in the back fairly hidden from anyone who would stand in the entrance. I scratch in the closest sack and pull out a blanket.

With tired eyes and a sore body, I curl up behind some boxes, mindful of my injured arm and wrap myself in the blanket. As I close my eyes I can't help but think of how similar today was to the first few days after I ran away from the Farm. "it isn't all that bad Desmond," I say softly to myself. "I can adapt. I did it before and I can do it again." With those final words, I slip off into the land of sleep.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

**Date: Sometime 2003**

**Location: unknown**

**Person: Desmond Miles**

**Age: 16**

'I'm cold and it is raining. I don't know for how long I have been running, but it feels like it has been so long since I jumped from my window and ran away from the Farm. It doesn't matter though. I need to get out of the cold and the rain. I can't afford to get any sicker than I already am,' I think to myself as I look at the trees surrounding me and I know I have no idea where I am. I continue trudging through the mud and rain. I feel flushed like I am burning up from fever despite the rain drenching me and my few belongings and the cold wind tearing at my clothes. I wipe my nose on the sleeve of my jacket. It doesn't help me though. My nose keeps running.

'If mum was around she would yell at me for messing up my jacket,' I think smiling slightly at the memory of when mum pulled me from the mud when I was eight, sick and injured from falling off the roof during training. She gave me a warm bath and tucked me into bed. It was one of the few good memories I had of my time at the Farm. She always made it better, when she wasn't gone on some "mission".

I cough and it feels as if my lungs are being torn out and if my throat was on fire. 'if only I had some basil leaves and ginger to bring down my fever the cough isn't as bad and I won't kill me but the fever might,' I think. Somewhere in the distance, I hear the sound of a vehicle. I try running towards the sound. 'maybe they would help me,' I think. I break through the tree line and I see a worn dirt road and a car approaching. I run into the road just as it comes closer. The car breaks before it hits me and I see a man getting out of it. "Please help," I whisper as I feel unconsciousness settling over me. Just before I collapse I hear the man shouting in concern.

I don't know for how long I was unconscious, but I remember that I woke a few times from my fitful sleep. I remember the man and women caring for me. She wrapped my wounds and changed a cloth that rested against my forehead. I remember her talking about her son that just moved out of their house and how I was such a mess when they found. I remember waking up in clean clothes and hearing from her that other clothes were ruined, but the managed to save my jacket and my duffel bag filled with stuff. I remember how the man told me that I was lucky to survive and that if they didn't find me when they did I would be dead. I knew he was right. I remember that every time I was barely conscious there was someone with me.

It surprised me when I finally truly woke that no one was with me. I feel guilty as I grab a few sets of clothes from the closets in the room that I slept in. I assume that I used to belong to their son. I feel terrible when I steal some food out of their cupboards and fridge and a cupola of bucks from the wallet that lay on their kitchen table. I see a notebook lying on the counter and I quickly scribble a note to them.

_Thank you for saving my life and for taking care of me. I am sorry for taking your stuff and just leaving._

I am out of the kitchen window and I take off running. I admire the buildings that surround me. I enjoy the feeling of the sun rising and the cool night air retreating. I gape in wonder at the number of houses packed together and at the sheer amount of people that they must contain. 'I have never seen so many people in one place before,' I think. I sprint through the back alleys and weave through the trash cans. At one point I vault over a parked car and for the first time in my life I feel free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so notes on this chapter. This chapter doesn't contain any action, but we needed to get this over with as to pave the way for so cool healer/mimic Desmond action. I promise that there will be some of that in the next chapter. Also, what do you think of my flashback? I just sorta realized we don't know anything about what happened to him after he ran away and before he was captured. So I will be exploring his past along with the current things that are happening to him. And yes I made him female. that is because I am evil and want to mess with him. It also opens a bunch of interesting possibilities that can happen to Desmond or should I say Desmin? Also, I can see Juno doing that to him. On the topic of Juno. It will later be explored why she is "nice" to Desmond.
> 
> Anyways, I don't have a beta so all this is un-betaed. So if you see any mistakes please let me know. If you like this Fic and find it interesting, please consider subscribing to this fic and leaving a comment. Any and all support is appreciated. Thanks.
> 
> Silent out. ;)


	3. Learning to adjust/Medic madness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guide:  
> Normal speak (plain text)  
> Isu speak (Bold and Italic)  
> Desmond/other speaking in a different language (Italic)  
> Thoughts (apostrophes)  
> 

_Chapter 2: Learning to adjust/Medic madness_

* * *

 

I wish I could say that I awoke fully rested to the song of birds and sunshine pooling through the window. Unfortunately, I can't. I wake up to the sound of a young assassin stomping down the stairs to the basement. I sat up quickly and wiggled myself between two boxes.

"Unbelievable. Why does the den master have to send me down here," I hear the boy – for he was barely a man—grumble as he threw a sack over his shoulder and promptly stomped back out the basement with the sack over his shoulder. I hold my breath until I hear the door slam behind him. I breathe a sigh of relief that I was not discovered. I wince at what might have happened if he did. 'Does not matter now,' I think to myself.

I pull myself up from the ground with my left hand and sit on the crate that I had taken shelter behind. My body aches from sleeping on the ground and it feels as if my stomach was eating me as a punishment for not feeding it. Pulling up the blanket that I had used the previous night I stuff it into my messenger bag as well. Starving I take out the bread I had stolen last night and quickly devour it not caring that it was dry and a bit stale. I was too hungry to care. With the bread all eaten up and the crimps scattered on the floor, I realize that I was still dreadfully hungry.

'This is a storage room, isn't it? there must be something that I can eat,' I say to myself. I quietly go throw half a dozen sacks and box's taking everything that is useful until in the last box I find different bags containing dried meat and fruit. I take as many as I can fit in my bag and is surprised when the entire box is emptied into my bag. I decided that I would worry about that at a later date, first I would find more things of value may be some knives or more herbs for healing.

I head for the boxes on the shelves. They look as if they might contain something more than cloth, blankets, and feathers. 'Well, at least I know where Malik kept getting all those feathers. I wonder if all Bureaus have sacks full of feathers that are used to mark their targets,' I think.

I step on to a bunch of boxes that act as stairs to the shelves. 'Was it luck that had them arranged so perfectly or something else?' I wonder. I open the first box and find paper, ink, and quills. I take some of them and a leather-bound book that's paper is empty of any and all writing. The next box contains throwing knives, daggers, rope, pouches and a blade cleaning kit. I take all of that and put it in my bad. It still isn't heavy at all and I start to feel concerned.

My eyes dart around the room to see if anything else that I can take might be useful. I spot tucked away in a corner behind more boxes and sacks – 'Honestly I think how much stuff is in this room' I wonder—is a rack filled with blades. I test each one by giving it a few swings. It feels off since I am doing this with my left hand instead my right as all of my ancestors were right-handed except Haytham he was ambidextrous like me. I do this until I find a blade that doesn't leave the part of me that is my ancestors snarling in disgust. "Okay," I say, "let's see if this will work." I place the blade back in its scabbard and I slide it into my bag. It fits...

?!

'How does it fit? That isn't possible. A messenger bag shouldn't be able to hold three sets of clothing a blanket and bags of food even less a broad sword,' I think hyperventilating in shock and panic. I don't realize that I dropped my bag until my pole rolls out and Juno's hologram is back.

She forces me to sit down and runs her hologram fingers through my hair. **_"Hush, now my cipher. Calm down there is no need to fear youngling,"_** she says in a manner that a mother would when comforting her child. A knot forms in my throat.

'Maybe I'm just reading this wrong,' I convince myself. Juno continues to stroke my head and holds me close until my breathing evens out and I am no longer having a panic attack.

 ** _"Better?"_** she asks and I nod. We sit there for a while longer not saying anything. Until I do.

"How?" I ask.

 ** _"You will have to be more specific,"_** she says in a chasting tone.

"How is my messenger bag holding so much and not feeling like it weighs anything?"

 ** _"When translated into your language it is a subspace. Each Isu has one built into us. It is part of our biology and since you are more Isu now I decided to give you the same perk accept I couldn't build it into you so I created a potable subspace in the forum of your messenger bag,"_ **She says calmly as if she was talking to a confused five-year-old.

"So I was to reach into the bad how would I get my stuff back," I ask.

 ** _"You merely think of it,"_** she says as if it the most obvious thing in the world.

"Okay," I nod. "Does it work for other people too or?"

 _ **"No,"**_ She snarls as if the very notion offended her. **_"It works only for you as I incorporated a blood recognition technology into it. It works for you and you alone. Any fool that tries to use it will end up with a vaporized hand at the best or dead at worst."_**

"Okay," I nod carefully not to do anything upsetting to her.

 ** _"Is that the only question you have?"_** she asks.

"Well, no. Why did you make me younger?" I wonder.

**_"As I said before, to extended your life span. And to give up a better chance at abating. A younger body is abler to handle virus than attacks."_ **

"Okay," I say nodding to the logic behind her answer. "Then how old am I exactly?"

 _ **"You are your human equivalent of 19,"** _she says simply.

"Okay," I say taking a deep breath. 'That was like six years that has been shaved off.'

 ** _"Any more queries or it that all?"_** she asks and I can swear that I hear a fond note in her voice.

"Yes," I say, "That is all."

She nods and says, **_"Goodbye, my cipher."_** She disappears. I breathe out and rub my eyes. I get up and put my apple back in my bag and sling it over my shoulder. As I walk to the door I see a bow with its bowstring wrapped around it and quiver filled with arrows. 'Why not?' I shrug and despite the oddness, I feel at the action I slip it into the bag.

Walking to the door I press my ears against it. I don't hear anyone and decide to risk it. I open the door slightly and peak out. I don't see anyone. I come out and quietly close the door. I hear clashing coming from the courtyard and watch hidden in the shadows. My brown robe helps me hide better. As two assassins'—well novices really – practice sword fighting. I notice that the smaller one's balance is off and that his technique is lacking as well.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING," yells the Dai and both of them look at him before they shoot out through the opening in the roof faster than should be possible. The Dai shakes his head and turns back to his desk. As soon as I see him occupied in the books behind him I slink into the courtyard and out through the passage. The air feels wonderful and as I breathe I notice that the air tastes cleaner as well.

I walk through the streets taking in the sights of Jerusalem. It is still early the sun is yet to rise, but the sky has already become a grey-blue shade. It is peaceful and I allow myself to relax. 'Altair never had the change to just look and explore this city for fun. I don't even think he would ever spend his time like this. Just wondering about. No care in the world, well, sorta,' I think to myself. I watch as the sun rises and people start to move around the city. I start picking the pockets of passing merchants and rich looking folks.

I see a merchant struggling to lift a sack and I walk up to him. "Excuse me, Sir, can I assist you with that?" I ask him.

He looks surprised but gives a nod. I take the sack from him and sling it over my left shoulder. "So where does this need to be?" I ask.

He gapes at me. "You are so strong," he says in awe.

"Uh, thank you, sir. Now, where does this need to go?"

"Oh, just follow me." I follow him until we come to a stand. "Just place it here," he says gesturing to a stand. I place it down next to the stand and he gives me a calculated look. "I am not certain if I should trust you, but I still have many crates and sacks that I need to carry here. If you bring them to me I will pay you 27 copper coins."

I am surprised at his offer but I agree. "I will do it," I say. He points me to the area where there is a stack of three boxes and many sacks. I quickly manage to bring him all the sacks, but then I need to stop and figure out how to carry all these boxes. I try to pick up them up with one hand, but it fails. Eventually, I tip the box slightly to the side and put my left arm underneath the box. I tip it back again and wince at the weight crushing my arm. I pull it up to my chest. It slips from my arm and my right-hand flies up to stop it. I cry out in pain. My knees buckle underneath me and I drop my head to my chest.

Strong arms pull the box from my hands and grab my right wrist. I give a quiet scream. The owner of the hand lets go and places a hand on my back instead. "Deep breaths. Breathe," says the owner of the hand. His voice is smooth and calming. I manage to breathe until the pain is gone. I look up into the dark eyes of the man who helped me. He is a little blurry from the tears in my eyes.

"Thank you," I whisper.

"Altair?" the man askes.

"What?" I question looking at him in confusion.

"Sorry," he apologizes, "I thought you were someone else."

"That is alright. No harm was done," I say to him and I realize who he is and why he would think that I am my ancestor that lived in this time. He was Malik Al-Sayf. I take a deep breath in shock. He looks at me with his dark serious eyes. It feels as if he was tearing through my soul and pick apart all my secrets.

"Excuse, me," I say. "It was lovely meeting you, but I need to get these boxes to my employer's stand."

"Where is it?" he asks pulling his gaze from my eyes.

"Over there," I say turning and pointing at the stand. "Why?" I ask turning back. I see him with all three boxes in his arms. "Wait. Stop!" I cry. "I need to carry them."

He gives me a hard look and I swear that his eyes flitted to my chest area. "You are obviously injured and I have some time to spare. Accept my help," he says giving me a look that tells me not to refuse. So I don't. I walk with him as he carries the boxes to the merchant's stall. He puts them down and I bend down to move some sacks out of the way.

"Thank you, for your help," I say turning to him only to see that Malik has disappeared.

"Ah, you have done a wonderful job. You have brought everything here and before the market opens as well. Thank you, ahm. Sorry, you never gave me your name," the merchant says clasping me on my right shoulder. I give a quiet gasp of pain and consider his question.

"Desmond," I say. Here Abstergo wouldn't find me. Here I was safe from them.

"Ah strange name you have Desmond," the merchant says.

"It is foreign. My mother was more Italian than Syrian," I say – it is sort of true alter all my mother was both Ezio and Altair's descendant.

"Oh," says the merchant sounding positively – 'Heaven help me'—delighted. "So you speak Italian then," he asks.

"Yes," I reply barely noticing how I slipped into a different language. "I also speak English," I admit.

"That is fantastic. It is rare for me to be able to speak in my own language to someone," he admits with the brightest smile I have ever see.

"Ah, uhm. That is nice, but people will start coming soon and you will need to set up before they arrive," I say trying to get out of here.

"Oh, yes. I will pay you more if you will help me set up," he says and I am convinced that he is only saying that to keep me around to talk to him.

"Okay," I agree. I spend the next few minutes—felt like hours—helping him set up and listening to his chatter with me giving a comment on what he said now and again. The first customers appear and there is such a rush that I cannot talk to him to get my money. So I wait.

Suddenly a scream tears through the crowd. "Please someone help. My husband is wounded. He was shot by bandits," I hear a woman scream and I run toward the sound of her hysterical screaming. My messenger bag is already open and I am ready to pull out whatever I have that is needed. I push through the dense crowd, but people refuse to move.

"MOVE OUT THE WAY. I AM A HEALER. MOVE," I scream and people move. I see the man he has a nasty wound over his chest and an arrow is in his shoulder. I push the last of the people out of the way. I kneel at the woman who was holding her husband. I see a horse standing behind her and faintly note that that must be how she got here as the market wasn't that far from the gate.

She looks up at me and begs, "Please help."

"I will," I say. "I need water, boiled water, the strongest alcohol you can find and honey. I don't care how you get it, but get it now or your husband will die," I say with as much force and gravity that I can manage. It must have worked because she and another random woman runoff. I inspect the chest wound. 'It is deep, but it isn't bleeding too bad. It will need stitches though,' I think as I pull out a knife of my bag and cut away the shirt on him.

'The arrow through will be trickier to remove. Luckily it is a normal arrow and if I am careful won't cause too much damage, but I do not know if it hit anything vital. It doesn't seem as if it has hit any arteries or bone, but I might be wrong,' I think as I continue analyzing the wounds. I faintly realize that a bowl of boil water is placed next to me along with a jar of honey and a bottle of alcohol. I pull a cloth out of my bag and dip it into the water. My right-hand squeezes the water out and starts cleaning the cut. I pour some of the alcohol on his wound and he hisses. I lift the bottle to my lips and take a swig—it is terrible I will defiantly have to make my own alcohol if I was to stay here. I can faintly hear the murmurs of people in the background, but I don't have the time to process that now. I have a patient's life to save.

My left-hand pulls out a needle and thread and I place the cloth back into the water. I thread the needle after I place it into the water and I wash my hands with that water too. The man is unconfused and I am thankful because I don't have time to administer something to numb the pain. I start stitching up his chest wound and somewhere in the back of my mind, I feel pleased with how neat and tiny the stitches are. The wound is stitched up and I smear honey over the wound. "Help me lift him up," I say and someone lifts him just enough for me to bandage his wound. "Lay him back down," I order and the person does.

I move to the arrow next. I check his pulse and it is still strong. I breathe a sigh of relief and check to see if he is breathing right. He is. I break the wooden part off. I pull out my knife and sterilize it in the water well as sterilized as I can get it and I wince. 'This isn't going to be petty,' I think and start to remove the arrow. Somewhere I hear groans of disgust as I use the knife to remove the arrow. I manage to get the arrowhead out and I quickly use the cloth to clean most of the blood away. I take the bottle of alcohol and pour it into the wound. Cleaning the remainder of the liquid out of the wound I sterilize the needle again and start to stitch. I apply honey on the wound after I am done stitching the man up and the person who assisted me the first time helps me bandage him again.

With a gasping breath, I feel my muscles relax after saving this man's life. Sound returns to me as I break out of the tunnel vision I was in where I could only focus on saving the life of the person that was under my hands. My right arm starts to not just ache but absolutely burn with pain as the adrenaline wears off. I stand and smile while the people say nice things and leave. I can't focus on their words the pain is just so bad. People are gone and my legs buckle underneath me. I hear the woman exclaim in shock.

"It's fine," I say. "I'm just tired. You need to change his bandages every night and at noon at least. Boil water and mix powdered willow bark or black pepper into the water. Soak the bandages in them and spread more honey on the wounds before bandaging them," I tell her offering my best fake smile and giving her a bag of dried basil leaves. "Have him eat or drink this with warm water. It will numb the pain."

She nods. "Thank you, very much. We don't have much, but here," she says pushing a few coins in my hand. Before I could protest she leaves and I collapse. I feel a hand on my shoulder. It is comforting. I look up and it is Malik. I realize that it was him that helped me with the bandages.

"Thank you, again for helping me," I say.

He nods at me. "Malik," he says and for a moment I wonder why he said his name. He must have seen my confusion because he tells me, "My name is Malik."

"Desmond," I say and he gives me a look.

"Sounds foreign."

"Because it is."

"So you are a healer?" he asks me.

"Yes I am," I reply and I move to pick up my stuff. He helps me pick them all up and I place them back into my bag.

"Thank you," I say and he offers a small nod and leaves.

"That was amazing Desmond," the merchant says as I walk back to his stand.

"Thank you," I say both for the compliment and my money that he gives me.

"I did not know you were a healer."

"No, you did not."

"Do you have a place where you practice?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

"No," I say. "I came into the city yesterday," I answer him.

"Oh, what made you come here then."

"My last practice went up in flame."

"Oh," he said. "Does that mean you do not have a home."

"No, I do not," I sigh.

He smiles suddenly. "Then you, my friend are very lucky there is an abanded home in the poorer district of the middle district. I doubt that the owner would ask much if you were to put up a practice there," he says with such conviction.

"Show me," I say and that is how I find myself sealing the deal with a man who really wants to get rid of the house. I am told by the merchant that I got it at a bargain. He leaves and wishes me good luck.

I find myself standing in this dirty old house with a broken door, a leaky roof, stairs to the second floor that sounds as if they will break if you walk on them, and some cheap ugly furniture. But none of this matters because I have my own house and furniture. I have a bed and I am content.

First thing I do after buying the place is to break down the door and steal some cloth to make a drape to act as a door. I go buy a broom and sweep the entire place, before drawing buckets and buckets full of water to wash the entire place. It takes until a few hours before the market closes and it is fine because it is mine and I don't have to live in fear of my father finding me or of Absergo finding me. I go back to the market and buy myself a pot and some bread. I eat the bread and use the pot to boil water with which I can clean myself. I clean myself and it feels wonderful to be clean again. I fall into my bed. The mattress is made from straw—I had to go find fresh straw to fill it with—and a creaky bed frame, but I fall asleep happy or at least content.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

 

**Date: December 14, 2003**

**Place: Somewhere in New York City**

**Person: Desmond Miles**

**Age: 16**

I can't help but gasp at the buildings. There are so many and they are so tall. I walk through the streets and stare at the people. There are just so many. I shiver and pull my jacket closer to me. "How is it that when it is snowing the air isn't that cold, but as soon as it stops it feels as if I am freezing?" I wonder out loud.

I don't pay attention to where I am going as I trudge through the snow. I stop as I feel my stomach growling. I count all the money I had pickpocketed from passerby's. 'It would be enough for me to get something to eat and something warm to drink,' I think not noticing the shadow that fell over me.

"What is a kid like you doing here?" asks a voice making me swing around. I see a large with his three companions. The way they look at me sends chills up my spine.

"I'm not a kid," I say trying and failing to sound intimidating.

"Look, kid, give us what we want and we will leave you alone," says one of the large man's companions. He says it with a cruel smile and I can do the math and understand what he implies by the tone of his voice. I turn and run hoping that there was a way out of this alleyway that I so stupidly walked into. 'Stupid, Stupid, Desmond. What were you thinking? That the world would be Kind? That you would be able to let your guard down,' I think as I fly down the alleyway. I end up in a dead end with no way out not even a dumpster to help me climb up the buildings. The men come closer. "Give up and you won't get hurt," one of them says. I know that they are lying. The first man swings at me and I dodge. Another two attack me at the same time. I dodge one but miss the other incoming fist.

The fist hit me in the face giving me a future black eye. I retaliate and manage to get in a few punches. Somewhere along the line, a knife gets pulled out and I barely see it before I need to jump back to avoid it. It grazes my lip and there is blood pouring out. Someone's fist hits me in the gut and I collapse. I'm on the floor and wheezing for it. The men are so much bigger and stronger than me. They close in and my eyes widen in fear.

"Hey, why don't you go pick on someone your own size, you assholes," I hear a voice calling from behind the men.

"Go away," says one of my attackers.

"No way," says the person in a cocky kind of tone. I hear a gunshot and the attackers go for the person. There is a lot of blows exchanged. I can't see that well, 'Maybe I have a minor concussion,' I think. The person escapes from them and grabs my arm and starts running. I follow. The two of us are smaller and either therefore faster.

We get away from them by running into a crowd. The person, a young man, grabs a hat from someone and nicks a scarf from another person. "Here," he says putting the hat on my head and wraps the scarf around his face. He pulls me to a bench and we sit down between two people. It feels as if we grey out and people don't notice us.

The attackers run past us and the young man next to me laughs. "Idiots," he says. "So you are pretty beat up want to come back home with me or do you want me to walk you home?" the young man says. I don't know why I trust him or why I accept his offer, but I do.

"Thanks, I'll take up on the first," I say flashing a hesitant smile.

"Great, follow me," he says returning the smile and he starts jogging. I follow him and we end up somewhere in an apartment. "Okay, so I have some ice packs in the fridge and I have a needle and thread in the bathroom along with some pain pills. You get the ice packs and I'll get the rest," he says and I realize that I like his smile. It is a nice smile one that says that he is a person that cares.

I grab the ice packs and he comes back with the needle and thread. I take them from his hands. "Do you have a mirror," I ask.

"Yes," he says giving me a confused look. He points to a mirror hung in the hallway. I walk towards it and I start stitching up my lip wincing at the pain of it. "Hey wait don't you want me to do it?" he asks.

I pause and shake my head. "No, I know how to do it," I say before going back to the stitching. When I am done he gives me the pain pills and I swallow them quickly. He looks at me surprised at how well done the stitches are. I look back at him and see a large cut on his arm. I frown. 'He got that because he helped me,' I think.

"Would you like me to stitch that up for you?" I ask gesturing at his wound.

"Uh, sure," he says shrugging. I quickly clean his wound. I start stitching him up ignoring his cries of pain. When I am done I watch as he swallows 10 pain pills. I give him an unimpressed look.

"What, not everyone can take being stitched up without screaming," he says pouting. I laugh at the face he pulls. "Anyway do you have a place to stay?" he asks. I shake my head. "How about you stay over tonight. Tomorrow I will help you get some fake identification," he says smiling.

I freeze. "What do you mean by fake identification?" I ask trying not to panic.

"I know a runaway when I see one, besides you look undernourished and rather beat up beside the injuries you received tonight. So either you are a runaway or you are being abused and I am gonna help you," he says with so much sincerity.

"Why?" I ask unused to the kindness.

"Because you look like you need it."

"Thank you," I say.

"So you can take a shower and I will order pizza. That good for you?" he asks.

"Yeah, I guess," I shrug because I have never had pizza and I guess I might like to try it.

"Nice," he says casually. I leave to go shower. The water feels fantastic after so long of not having a proper shower. Coming out of the bathroom I see the young man sitting at the table doing what seems to be a lot of reading and writing.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Huh," he says looking up at me. "Oh, I am doing my homework for college."

"Oh," I say.

He gives me a calculated look. "You don't know what that is, do you?"

"I have a basic idea."

"Okay, where did you grow up that you don't know these stuff?"

"In a conservative farm. I am pretty sure I was part of a cult," I say shrugging.

"Oh, damn. You're a Cult runaway."

"Yeah."

"So I'll need to get you identification. Not just new or different identification. Wow, that's like simultaneously easier and harder," he says bringing his hand up to rub his forehead. "Seems like we are going to be together for a longer time than I thought. So we might as well get to know each other," he says giving me a smile.

"Oh, uhm. Well, my name is Desmond Miles and I am good at stabbing and stealing," I say casually.

"Desmond, no offense, but you don't tell someone that you are 'good at stabbing and stealing'. It might give them the wrong impression," he says seriously.

"Okay."

"Anyways," he says getting up and taking my hand. "I am Clay Kaczmarek and I am good at forging identification," he says shaking my hand and giving me smile.

"Okay," I say not stopping the smile that works its way onto my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a big thank you to everyone who left kudos. Honestly, it makes me feel happy. Very sorry about the long wait, but I hope all of you like this chapter. So I promised healer Desmond and I hope I delivered. We also go to see Desmond's first meeting with Malik. I realize that I may not be portraying the characters exactly like they are in canon, but bear with me, please. So if anyone has any pointers on how to make them more in line with the way they are portrayed in the game please tell me.
> 
> All the usual. I don't have a beta. So all this is un-betaed. Please bear with me. If you see any mistakes, please let me know in a review about it.
> 
> If you like this fic please consider leaving a comment or subscribing to it. And thank you so much to everyone who is subscribed to or bookmarked my fic. It is much appreciated.
> 
> Outtake
> 
> 'Altair never had the change to just look and explore this city for fun. I don't even think he would ever spend his time like this. Just wondering about. No car in the world, well, yeah there isn't any cars in this world yet at least not for the next 800 years,' I think to myself. (while editing I saw that instead of writing care I wrote car and I rolled with it for a while before I deleted it. My brother asked me to put it back in. So here it is Bro.)
> 
> Silent Out. ;)


	4. Reflections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guide:  
> Normal speak (plain text)  
> Isu speak (Bold and Italic)  
> Desmond/other speaking in a different language (Italic)  
> Thoughts (apostrophes)  
> Writing (plane italics)

_Mimic_

* * *

 

Chapter 3: Reflections

**Person: Malik**

**Day Two since Desmond's "Death"**

I was walking through the market place trying to get rid of the tension from traveling all night to Jerusalem. 'Honestly, I just want to sleep for a bit before Altair and I go on our mission. Why does den master Tariq have to kick us out when our mission only arrives tomorrow night?' I wonder staring at a merchant who seems to be struggling with carrying his goods. I watch him wondering if I should help him or not. As I move to help him I see a person move toward the merchant. I watch to see what that person would do. The person takes the sack from the merchant with one hand and throws it over his shoulder. A few minutes pass before the man comes back and starts to carry the sacks to where I assume will be the merchant's stall. I notice how he does not use his right hand once while he moves the sacks.

I watch with curiosity as he seems to try to lift one of the boxes with only one hand. I am slightly amused as he kicks a rock in frustration when he can't. It is rather hilarious to watch him glare at the boxes. I cannot see his face, but his body tells me all I need to know. He is very frustrated at the boxes.

I shake my head as he tips the box slightly and slips his hand underneath. I start moving toward him when he manages to lift it and I can't help but be impressed with his determination and that he actually succeeded. I start to turn when I see the box slip and he brings his hand up. I hear the scream that tears from his throat and I sprint to him. I pull the box from his hands as he buckles and drops his head to his chest. I take the wrist closest to me and he gives another scream. I remove my hand from his wrist and place it on his back instead.

"Deep breaths. Breathe," I tell him. My heart aches at the pained sob that escapes the man. He gives a few gaspy breaths, probably trying to stop himself from crying. I allow myself to rub circles on his back.

He seems to calm down and with a final deep but shaky breath he looks up at me and gives me a shaky smile before saying, "Thank you."

Mind goes blank at the face that is in front of me. "Altair?" I ask not believing my eyes.

"What?" the man asks confused. I shake myself from the thoughts in my head. 'No not Altair,' I think noticing that the man's hair is brown rather than the blond that belongs to Altair and their eyes are more brown than gold. Their skin is also tanner than Altair's. There is so many difference between Altair and the man before me and yet are so similar. I have no doubt that they could be brothers if placed next to each other.

"Sorry," I apologize putting my musings away for later. "I thought you were someone else," I tell him.

"That is alright," he says flashing me a smile. "No harm was done." I get ready to get up when I hear him take a deep breath. My eyes meet him and I study his face better as he refuses to look away. His face is similar to Altair's down to the scar on his lip and has a shape closer to a noble or merchant. His face is softer than Altair's, far softer than a male should be even a young boy. The more I look I can spot differences that point to one conclusion. From the long eyelashes and the pinker lips to the feminine curve of the jaw, the man in front of me is female though not obviously so. If one was not to look or even if you did you wouldn't notice.

"Excuse me," she says. "It was lovely meeting you, but I need to get these boxes to my employer's stand," she says seems to escape my gaze. I notice how her right hand's fingers are the color of scorched wood.

"Where is it?" I asked deciding to carry the boxes for her. She gives me a questioning look before turning and pointing at a stall. "Over there." I pick up the boxes while she isn't looking. "Why?" she asks turning back to me. I notice how her eyes widen as she sees me. "Wait. Stop!" she cries. "I need to carry them." She must fear that I would take the credit and her pay.

I give her an irritated look and I can't help it when my eyes flit to her chest. It is very well bound and flat for a female. "You are obviously injured and I have some time to spare," I say which is true. Altair said that he would meet me at the Bureau in the Afternoon. "Accept my help," I tell her leaving no room for any argument. Her shoulders sag and we walk together to the merchant's stall. I can see that she aches to say something much like Altair when he wants to know something. I watch to see if she will do anything, but she doesn't. 'Much better disciplined than Altair then,' I muse to myself.

Coming to the stall I place the boxes down next to the sacks that she carried here earlier. She bends down to adjust something and I walk away. I put her and her similarities to Altair out of my mind for now and start to search for a stall that sells food.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

 

I sit on the roof of a nearby house and watch the people coming and going in the market as I slowly eat the bread I bought. Looking up I judge that by the sun three hours have passed since I met that woman. 'How is it that she looks so similar to Altair,' I wonder as I try to throw out the thoughts that have my mind screaming at Altair's father for foul play. 'After all, she seems to be at the right age to have been born before Umar died and he has dishonored the brotherhood before. Who says he didn't take it a step further?'

A shriek pulls me from my musings and I soon hear a woman begging for someone to come help her husband. A sneer paints my face as I watch the people crowd around her, but doesn't help her. I can't help but feel angry at all of them. "I AM A HEALER. MOVE," tears through the crowd and the people split to reveal the woman that moments ago I was musing on. I watch as she says something to the wife and then starts inspecting the man. I find that my curiosity has been quirked. Silently I come down the roof and move towards her.

I arrive beside her just to see her take a long drink from a bottle of some or other alcoholic drink. I find myself chuckling at that. 'There is another difference between her and Altair. He doesn't like alcoholic drinks. He rather gets drunk on the feel of battle and bloodshed,' I frown at the sudden darker turn of my thoughts. I concentrate again on what she is doing and find myself shocked at the neatness of her stitches. I barely hear her when she shouts for someone to assist her in lifting her patient up. I am the closest to her and when no one goes to help I lift him for her. A bandage is shoved into my hand to hold while the other end is in her hand and I watch her finger wrap the man's chest wound. The bandage is taken from me again and she tells me to lower him.

I can't help but feel impressed with the care she puts into removing the arrowhead. Once again I help her with bandaging up the man. When he is finally taken care of I see how she almost shudders before pulling herself up. I see how her left-hand hovers over her right arm. I now realize that if her hand is as injured as I am to believe then the procedures must have caused it much pain. She stands still and smiles as various people congratulate her and leave. When everyone, but the woman and I are gone her knees buckle, but she remains standing.

I faintly hear the man's wife give a cry of surprise, but I am focused on the tension in the body of the woman in front of me and the fact that she was shaking slightly. She calmly gives instruction to the wife and hands her a bag of herbs. She protests when the woman gives her some coins, but the woman leaves before she can get anything in. She drops to her knees and the shaking mostly stops. I rest my hand on her shoulder—whether it was to offer comfort or to let her know that I am here I am uncertain. She looks up at me and gives me a wonderful smile that sends my stomach in knots.

"Thank you, again for helping me," she says her smile never leaving her face. I nod in acceptance of her thanks.

"Malik," I say offering my name before I realize that I do. I see confusion work its way on her face, confusion that turns her lips down in a frown. "My name is Malik," I say as to make her understand that that was what I had meant when I had said my name.

A smile is once again on her face and doesn't seem as if she was consciously smiling but rather that a soft smile was the natural position that her lips took – the opposite of Altair's frown. "Desmond," she says. It must be the alias that she uses dressed up as a male as the name lacks a feminine quality.

"Sounds foreign," I note. Her smile becomes quirky in nature.

"Because it is," she states simply. I wish to press for more but decide against it.

"So, you are a healer?" I ask.

"Yes, I am," she says and to my frustration does not say anything else. Instead, she moves to gather all the articles that she used to save the man. I gather all the objects before her and give them to her. Desmond places them into her strange bag. I help her up and she offers a small, "Thank you." I spot a Novice moving towards me and I nod at her before walking to meet the Novice.

"Malik, Altair is searching for you," said the novice I reach him. I feel a shot of irritation shoot through me. "Very well, let us go see what he wants," I say and we climb up a building and start running towards the Bureau.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

**Person: Desmond**

**Day three since Desmond's "Death"**

I wake up from my sleep filled with irritation and murder in my mind. 'Why does the sun have to wake me up? Why can't I just stab it so it will leave me alone?' I wonder to myself. Unhappily I drag myself from my bed and move towards my designated kitchen area. I walk outside and draw some water to boil. Lighting the fire, I realize that I don't have any coffee or even tea to wake me up. Sadness sets in and I feel utterly lost.

Pain shoots through my right arm and I get an idea. I retrieve my messenger bag and pull some willow bark from it. I realize that I also do not have any cups or even cutlery. I feel frustrated. "As there is nothing I can do right now I might as well go buy or steal myself some things to make this an actual house. Both of my sets of clothes are dirty which annoying as well," sighing I decide to go steal some clothes. I sling my messenger bag over my shoulder and leave the house.

I go find a secluded corner that I can catch someone in. There is also a convenient place haystack. Unfortunately, the first person that walks close to my corner happens to be a scholar. I feel slightly bad when I knock him out and strip him. With the clothes in my arms, I decided to pat him down as well and take all his money. After all, if I am going to steal something I might as well go all the way. "Sorry," I whisper as I drag the man and dump him in a conveniently placed haystack. I strip myself from my robe and pull on the scholar's robe. I pull up the hood in an afterthought. Moving through the crowds I feel comfortable in the robes that I stole.

I walk seemingly without a care. Nausea overtakes me and my vision greys at the edges. I snarl at the man that swings his blade at me. I jump back and pull out my own blade. 'What is this Templar thinking attacking me, Ezio, in broad daylight. I'm the greatest Assassin in this century. I will get Leonardo back damn all those that try to stop me,' I think.

I gasp as I jump back from another swing of the Templar's blade right into a wall. 'What? That isn't supposed to be here,' I think finding myself reeling. 'Does not matter,' I think steeling myself and attacking the Templar with vigor.

I find myself smirking when my blade catches his shoulder and he cries out. "Good," I whisper. "That is what you deserve for trying to stop me from getting Leonardo." The next swing that he gives gently grazes me making a cut in my sleeve. I must admit that even though I have injured the Templar he is still graceful in his movements. It fits with his lithe frame and I find myself disappointed.

"A pity that you are a Templar. Overwise I have no doubt that we would have had a bit of fun together. After all is there not a saying that says, 'Make Love not War' no?" I ask and enjoy the fury that burns in the Templar's eyes. His lips pull up in a snarl and he lunches at me. His anger blinds him and I decide to toy a bit with him.

I regret that decision soon after as his blade catches me again, but this time it cuts my skin. I quickly go in and pin him with my heavier frame. I plunge my hidden blade in his chest as I watch him fight desperately to throw me. I feel an unbidden sadness in me as the fight leaves his eyes and he goes limp. "Requiescat in pace," I say closing the man's eyes. I come up and hit my head against a wall that isn't there. I fall over from the impact.

I blink and see some people giving me a concerned look. " _Merda, that was a bad Bleed_ ," I whisper before realizing that I said that in Italian. I shake bringing my hand to my mouth. My breathing is shaky at best and I pull myself from the ground that I landed on after my head hit the wall. "Never mind that. I will go shopping and that is it," I snarl. Some people give me a nervous glance before going on their merry way.

"Okay first on the agenda. Plate or bowls or whatever people eat out of and maybe another pot. You can never have too many pots," I tell myself. I come to the market place but can't really see any bowls or whatnot. I do however see a merchant selling carpets and a spice merchant.

I haggle with the merchant until I manage to buy some ginger, more willow bark, honey, basil leaves, and cinnamon. Pleased with my purchase I move to the carpet merchant. 'The floor in my house is rather cold isn't it,' I think. My eyes trail over the carpets that the merchant has to offer. I ask about how much they cost and wince at the price he named.

I never learned what the money rate is here but 200 silver seems excessive. As I try to haggle the price down for one of the lesser quality carpets. I hear the city alarm bells ring and note that it is probably Altair's fault, because I may have seen, Malik but he would never have messed up so badly as to alert the entire Jerusalem. Or maybe another Novice or something.

I hear a shout of, "Assassin," and guards running. I give up on the carpet and walk away.

I hear it again closer again, "Assassin!" I start walking away and a hand roughly grabs my shoulder. "Die Assassin," shouts the guard and my hood falls back and I realize that I stole a rob from a scholar. A white robe. "Shit," I breathe before I rip myself away and start to sprint away as far as I can.

I leap over a woman bending down to pick up something. "Sorry," I shout as I stumble but pick myself up. I hear the guards coming closer. I rip a shawl off of a passing woman and ignore their shouts if protest. "Assassin," the guards shout again and I pick up my pace.

"Can't they say anything else?" I ask rhetorically as I run I slop around a corner and see a large crowd my eyes quickly spot a man with a limo and a short woman. I quickly through the shawl around me and mimic both the gait of the short woman and the limping man. I pick up a jar from a bunch of ladies that are busy filling their jars together and talking. I place it on my head and walk.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I see the guards rushing into the area and they try to find me the "Assassin". They search for a bit but gives up. "Fine," I hiss. "I will go back and stop my shopping." I turn and start to walk back to my house. I admit that I may be stomping, but I am upset. 'I really wanted to get some shopping done today and instead, I have gotten a nasty Bleed and got chased by guards,' I think sadly to myself.

"Excuse me," someone asks. I keep walking upset and slightly irritated. "Excuse me," someone asks again.

'It is unbelievable how unproductive this the trip was,' I complain to myself.

"Excuse me," the voice askes again this time placing a hand on my shoulder.

"What?" I harshly ask turning to the voice. It is a woman.

"I am sorry to bother you but are you the healer that healed the man yesterday in the market?" asks the woman quietly.

"Yes, I am," I confirm.

"That is good. My master's son is very sick. Yesterday at the market my master saw you healing the man. We have searched everywhere for you since yesterday. Please, my master asks that you come to heal his son. He will pay you anything," the woman begs. I feel bad for talking harshly to her she was only looking for me because it is her job. Well, sort of.

"Take me to him. I will see what I can do," I tell her. She smiles gratefully.

"Thank you. Please follow me." We start walking.

"So what does your master do?" I ask as we start coming closer to the darker part of the middle district.

"Oh, uhm. I do not think my master would like me to tell you this," she says sounding panicked.

"Okay, so what he does is illegal. Got it," I say shrugging. Her squeak of horror answers my question. "Well, then. Is he a mercenary, a thief, or something else?" I ask looking at her.

She clenches her hands and shuts her mouth. "Whether or he is in any business, I need to know. I have no interest in handing you into the guard, but I would like to know which business he does so that I can know what sort of illnesses and injuries I will have to treat in the future," I tell her. She stops suddenly.

"Here we are, please come in," she says pushing open a door. I give her one more look before entering. Inside the building, it is warm and covered in carpets and drapes.

"This way," says the woman gesturing to a doorway with drapes acting as a door. I go through the doorway and see a boy lying on a pallet covered in blankets. His breath seems labored and wet. There is a woman sitting next to his bed.

"Mistress, I have found the healer. I will go and find the master now," says the woman and she leaves. The lady looks up at me and there are tears in her eyes.

"Will you help?" asks the lady, her question barely a whisper.

"Yes, I will. Please move out of the way so that I will be able to see what is wrong with him," I tell her and she moves away. I kneel beside him. He gives a choking gasp and goes into a coughing fit. I bring my shawl up to cover my face. I sit him up and rub his back as he coughs.

"It hurts to cough. It hurts to breathe," he says pathetically.

"Shh, calm down," I say continuing to rub his back. I place the back of my hand on his forehead and fell his temperature. "Does he vomit?" I ask his mother.

"Yes," she nods. I take a deep breath. 'Then the boy has flu,' I think. I open my bag and pull out some ginger and honey. "Do you have a bowl that I can use and boiled water?" I ask as I turn to the mother.

"Yes," she nods and goes to fetch it. The boy goes into a coughing fit again. The mother comes back with a jug of boiled water and an empty bowl. I mix the ginger and the honey together and dilute it a bit until it is liquid-like. I see the woman, that brought, me come in and a man that assume is the father.

"A cup," I ask. The mother gives me a cup. I pour a bit of the mixture into the cup. "Hear, drink," I say softly to the boy. "It will soothe your throat, settle your stomach and bring down your fever." I lift the cup to his lips and help him drink. "Get him more pillows," I tell his parents. His mother goes away and comes back with many pillows. I look at the father. "Hold him up," I tell him and then look at the mother. "Help me place the pillows behind him."

I see the genuine love for his son as the father holds his son and whispers calming words to him. I feel a stab of jealousy, longing, and sadness at the sight before I shake the thoughts accompanying those feelings away. I place the pillows behind as to hold him up in a sitting position. "Okay, he can lean back now," I tell the parents. The father helps him lean back and the boy gives a soft sigh and closes his eyes tiredly. The honey has already started to work and relevel the pain in his throat along with the coughing. He quickly slips into sleep and I get up and turn to face his parents.

"I am Desmond," I tell the parents. They look at me confused I sigh. "Please tell me your names so that I can give you further instructions." They still look uncertain.

"My name is Faraj and this is my wife Azhar," the man introduces him and his wife. "May I ask healer Desmond why you asked for our names?" the man asks.

"It is nice to meet you. I wanted to know your names so that I would know what to address you as in the future," I say tucking the boy in his bed with his blankets.

"In the future?" questions Faraj.

"Well, I will tell you, but first on your son. He has bad flu. The medicine I made will – as I said – sooth his throat, settle his stomach and bring down his fever. Give it to him every time he starts going into a coughing fit. Make him some broth as it will be easier on his stomach. Boil water and put it in a pitcher to cool and use that water to give him to drink. Give him a lot of that water. Now if your servant or one of you will follow me back to my home so that you will know where I am. The reason for this is so that if he does not get better in a day or two that you can come to find me," I tell them.

"Oh, very well. Please, tell us what we need to pay you?" asks Azhar. I rub the back of my neck.

"Well, I have only recently moved to Jerusalem and all my things was lost when my last practice went up in flames. I would appreciate it if you can maybe tell me where I can get cups, bowls, and other such things," I tell them. I see Azhar give Faraj a look and he nods.

"Well come with me. I have much pottery that I do not need. I will give it to you as payment," she says and takes my right hand. I cry out and she jerks away.

"I am sorry," I tell her. "I injured my arm in the flames."

"Oh. I ask your forgiveness," she says looking horrified at the pain she caused me.

"No, there is nothing to forgive Azhar. You did not know. Now you were saying about the pottery," I assure her.

"Yes, come with me." I follow her out.

A few minutes later I find myself on my way with me carrying as much as I can manage with one arm and Faraj carrying a crate filled with other pieces of pottery including the jar I stole earlier. "Fajar this is really far too much as payment for some ginger, honey, and advice," I try to tell him.

"No, my wife and I are grateful. No other healer would come to see my son and if you really have a problem you can see it as an early payment for some future visits," he tells me.

"Fine, but why would they not come to see you or your son?" I ask after sighing in defeat. I watch him tense. "Oh," I say as the realization strikes me "It is because of the illegal business that you are in. Isn't it?" His wince is all the answer I need. "So that brings me to my next question. What profession are you in? The reason I ask is that then I will know what sort of wounds and illness I will have to treat in the future," I ask him, watching as his face shows his shock.

"Does that mean that you will not turn us away?" he asks with wide eyes.

"Of course not, now what profession are you in?" I tell him while rolling my eyes.

"I am a mercenary," he tells me. "Nice," I shrug and we come into my area. "This is my home," I tell him. "Please place the crate down here," I said leading him into my house and pointing with my head to a corner. He does.

"Why don't you have a proper door?" he asks gesturing to the cloth that acts as my "door".

"Well," I say putting the things I was carrying on the crate. "The door of this house was broken when I bought it and I haven't yet had time to put a new one on. Thank you for your help Fajar. I will be seeing more of you soon then I believe," I say giving him a smile.

"Ah, yes. I wish you good fortune Healer Desmond," Fajar says as he leaves my house. I sigh a breath of relief.

"In the end, I may not have been able to shop, but I got all the pottery I need. Next, I need a table and a cupboard for my pottery and foodstuff as well as my healer equipment," I tell myself as I run my hand through my curly hair. As I am fairly hungry I pull out my pot and take it outside. I light a fire with some wood underneath it and I pour water into it. I get out some vegetables and spices that Azhar packed into the crate and some of the dried meat that I stole from the Bureau. I start making some soup after the water has been fully boiled. I go back inside and get the bread out of my messenger bag. I come back to my pot of soup to see a street kid try to take some of the soup.

"Stop," I call out worried that the child will get hurt. The kid looks up at me and sprints away. I shake my head. "It's not ready yet," I say to thin air. Some time passes and the soup is almost done. I see the kid poke his head out from behind a large pitcher that belongs to the neighbors. I cackle softly. I ladle the soup into two bowls and place one a little further from me and break a piece of the bread off and place it on the bowl too. I take the other bowl inside with me and I enjoy my meal. When I am done I take the bowl outside and see that the other bowl is empty and the bread is gone. I smile quietly while picking it up. 'It is getting late,' I note and I decided to quickly clean the pot, bowls, and ladles. By the time I am done it is already starting to get dark.

'It takes a lot longer to wash dishes when I only have one working hand,' I muse as I bring in all my cooking utensils. Placing them all in the corner I take my messenger bag and go to my bed. I strip down and start to inspect my burnt arm properly. The skin is pitch black on my hand and gets progressively lighter until it is only a light red at my shoulder. I wince. 'I will need to treat this,' I think. I go back down to my cooking area and I bring the jar of cool, boiled war back to my bedroom. I sit back down on the bed and dip a cloth in it. I start cleaning my arm.

The cool water feels really good on the injured skin, but the cloth still hurts. When my arm is dry again I smear honey and powdered white willow bark mixture on my arm. I wince. It feels disgusting. "Hard to believe that something that feels so sticky can be so good for you," I say in disgust. With that done I wrap my entire arm in clean bandages.

I sigh. "Hope this makes it feel better," I comment to myself. I put away the herbs and honey and pull out the journal that I stole along with a quill and ink. I open on the first page and scrawl on the page as neat as possible in English.

_Journal of Desmond Miles_

_A wayward bartender/healer._

_Entry one, Day three since I "died"_

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

**Date: December 14, 2003**

**Place: Clay's Apartment, New York City**

**Person: Desmond Miles Age: 16**

I grumpily come to as the sun filterers gently in through the window. 'What the hell?' I think when I open my eyes just to come face to face with a stuffed bear that had a note pinned to it. "Wha…" I question at the strange sight. I pluck the note from the bear and start to read it.

_Hey Desmond,_

_I have to go to college._

_I left you at my place._

_Hope you are okay with that._

_Anyway, there is some leftover pizza in the fridge as well as Chinese_

_(please tell me you know what I mean)_

_I will be back tonight and until then you can watch TV or read or something._

_Yeah, so best of luck I guess._

_-Clay_

I blink slowly. "Well, okay then," I say shrugging before getting up to draw the curtains. After I yanked the curtains closed with perhaps too much force and disgust than is strictly necessary I curl back up on Clay's couch that shouldn't be as comfortable as it is. I pull the heavy, but soft and warm blankets around me and try to go back to sleep. I can't help the content feeling that settles in me despite the cold outside, my stitched lip, and my overall shitty life prior to this. I give a tired yawn and drop back into sleep.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

I wake again this time by my stomach. Pulling myself up from the tangle of blankets I go to the fridge. I take out the pizza and heat it up. With my food in hand, I go back to my nest of blankets. I remember the TV that Clay showed me last night and I turn it on. Eating the pizza, I hear that the show talks about how each person's gait is unique. That piques my interest. I finish the food and run to the full-length mirror in Clay's hallway. I place it against the wall and start trying to mimic the gait of the various people on the TV.

'It is weird,' I note, 'How it feels when I get someone's gait almost right. It feels wrong.' I blush slightly when I try to mimic the gait of a woman. The sway of hips when walking feels odd to me and it is in an attempt at swaying my hips that Clay returns. I freeze and he gives me a weird look.

"Okay, I'm going to pretend that I did not see that," he says putting his bag down. "Okay I have a lot of homework and I feel like an idiot that I did not leave this for you to do before I left, but would you please write down all this for me while I do homework. then when you are done we can go get something to eat. Okay," he says and gives me a paper. I come and sit next to him at the table while he is busy doing work. I start filling it in.

Age: 16

Full name: Desmond Devland Miles

Where did you grow up?: South Dakota

And many more. When I was done Clay laughed and said, "Finally." He dragged me off and we went to Subway for something to eat. I enjoyed the meal and Clay promised me that when we get back we will start working on my identification. 'I guess this isn't so bad,' I think to myself as laugh at a joke that Clay tells.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you did read right. Altair is blonde in this fic and in my head. His hair is not Thor blonde, but more like sandy blonde.  
> All the usual. I don't have a beta. So all this is un-betaed. Please bear with me. If you see any mistakes, please let me know about it.  
> If you like this fic please consider leaving a comment or subscribe to it. And thank you so much to everyone who is subscribed to, bookmarked my fic or left a review. It is much appreciated.  
> Silent out. ;)


	5. Guilt of the Late

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guide:  
> normal speak (plain text)  
> Isu speak (Bold and Italic)  
> Desmond/other speaking in a different language (Italic)  
> Thoughts (apostrophes)  
> Writing (plain italics)

 

_Chapter 4: Guilt of the Late_

**Kadar POV**

There was blood pooling underneath me where I fell. I hear the Templars leave after my brother. I feel saddened at dyeing and leaving Malik all alone. 'Sorry, Malik. I promised you that I will always be at your side. I did not mean to die so quickly,' I think as I try to gasp for breath that I can't seem to get. I wonder at how beautiful the ceiling of the temple actually is, but maybe that is the greyness settling into my vision. I blink and see a figure standing over me. 'She is lovely. Must be an angel come to take me away,' I think staring into those soft gold eyes that have strands of brown hair curling in front of them. Her lips move and I can't hear what she says, but she looks panicked. Her hands are on my wound and I can't even wince in pain. The fuzzy feeling was coming closer. I close my eyes and I think, 'She kinda looks like Altair,' before the grey swallows me.

* * *

  _Mimic_

* * *

 

**Desmond's POV**

Kadar's eyes fall shut as I try to stop the bleeding coming from his stomach wound. 'I'm too late,' think sobbing. "No, I already failed to save Hadi today. I will not lose another patient," I say forcing myself to calm down. I had to focus on now. I whistled loudly getting the attention of Nejla who was close by. " Help me lift him," I said to her as soon as her feet entered the chamber.

"Yes, Master," she said lifting him enough for me to get his robe off. I was relieved to see that the blade did not go right through, but I was worried that it may have damaged some organs. I smeared a large amount of honey, willow bark and clear spirits in and around the wound just to stop any major infection and any more loss of blood.

"Hand me the bandages," I order. Using the bandages, I wrap Kadar's wound as tight as possible ensuring that the bleeding slows. "Help me get him outside Nejla. We must get him back to the clinic to do surgery or he will die." I couldn't help the wistful thought of, ' I wish Hadi was here. He is so much stronger and he would have gotten Kadar out by now.' The thought brings the sting to tears to my eyes, but I don't have time for this now. "Nejla help me get him over my shoulder."

She looks at me in alarm. "But, Desmond, that can cause even more harm to him and it will cause great pain in your injured arm."

"Nejla, if we don't get him out of here and into the clinic he will die. It is a guarantee. Right now if I carry him over my shoulder there is a chance that he will live. Don't worry about me. I have lived through worse than my arm acting up," I tell at her skeptical look.

"Very well, but please be careful. We already lost Hadi today. If your arm gets infected and kills you we will be destroyed," she says but helps me get him onto my shoulder. Immediately I feel a burning pain. She rushes to my side.

I shake my head. "No, get the rest of the things. I will go ahead so long." She looks upset but complies. I bring my uninjured arm up to keep Kadar steady and I start to run. By the time I get to the horses, Haru has the stretcher set up between two of them. "Will it be stable?" I ask him. I see his eyes widen at the sight of Kadar. We didn't expect it to be this bad. I see understanding in his eyes.

"Yes, but we will not reach the city in less than 4 hours. Otherwise, the patent will be jostled too much," he tells me as he helps me get Kadar into the stretcher.

"Shit," I curse. "We do not have the time to waste." Nejla comes as I worry my lip trying to think of a way to save him. An idea strikes me. "Nejla what is the chance that you took the black pouch that I had in my room this morning?" I ask her. She looks uncomfortable.

"Yes," she nods. "I am sorry, but it was just sitting there."

"Please give it to me," I tell her. I never thought I would be grateful for the kleptomaniac tendency that she had developed while training under me. She hands it over to me and I automatically take it in my injured hand. I barely hiss in pain as the feeling of rightness settles in me. "I don't know if this will work, but please trust me. If it does work please don't kill me," I say and pull the Apple from the pouch. I feel the power buzzing inside it as it lies in my palm. I hold it close to Kadar's wound and close my eyes. 'Please, show me what is wrong. Please. Please. Please,' I think. I take a deep breath and warmth fills my injured arm. I could almost see the damaged tissue of his stomach and the torn muscles and arteries. I could feel the blood pooling inside of him and his spark of life flicker as if it was trying to go out.

"No!" I snarl. 'It must be healed. It will work. Heal him. Mend what is broken,' I order. The arteries start to reknit themselves and the damaged muscles and stomach tissue heals. I feel terribly sick and I find it difficult to breathe. I hear the shocked gasp from Nejla and breathe out as I open my eyes to the sight of Kadar's wound glowing faintly. "Huh, it worked," I whisper before I feel my legs give out and blackness enters my vision. 'Oh, shit."

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

I wake up to the saying of a trotting horse and a deep ache in my arms and legs. I open my eyes and see Nejla staring down at me. "What happened?" I rasp out.

She draws her horse – Vilan, I think its name was – to a halt. "Haru, Desmond is awake," she calls out. All the horses stop and Haru enters my vision.

"Let me get you untied and properly upon the horse," Haru says as he bends down and starts working on the rope that tied my legs and arms together.

I blink. "Did you tie me to the horse like one of your bounties," I squawk out indignantly.

"Sorry, but we did not have another stretcher. We only came prepared for one unconscious patient and had to make do with what we had, but if it makes you feel better Nejla protested when I threw you over the horse," he says as he unties me and helps me sit up.

I look at the two of them. Both looked distinctly uncomfortable. "What happened," I ask again watching them shift uncomfortably.

Nejla looks at Haru and he nods at her. She walks back to her horse and Haru pulls himself up on his. For a long time, nothing is said, but I can see how Haru's mind works as he attempts to find a way to say what he needs to. Finally, he starts to speak, "After you took the orb from Nejla, you held it to the kid's wound. Your burnt arm started to glow with golden lines of light and that light seemed to transfer from your arm to his wound. I, we watched as the wound healed. The bleeding mostly stopped and the wound started to reknit itself. Your eyes opened and they glowed with the same unnatural light. Then you dropped the orb and passed out. You hit the ground before we could catch you as we were still frozen in shock at what had just happened. You hitting the ground pulled us from our shock and Nejla went to check on the kid. He was stable and I picked you up and tossed you over your horse. The orb was placed back in the bag and we have been riding since then. We should be back in the city before the sun sets."

The silence returns and a bad taste enters my mouth. I don't know how to react to what he said. I don't know what to say.

Nejla starts to talk. "Desmond, because you are our friend and a good person, well, we decided to pretend that the whole orb related thing didn't happen. Just don't do that again, because if someone saw you, you would be taken before the elders and burnt for sorcery. We don't want that."

I nod. "Thank you. It means so much for me that you don't hate me."

"We don't hate you and although the sorcery shocked us, you used it to heal. That counts for something at least," Haru tells me.

We fall back into silence. I turn their words over in my head and wonder what would have happened if I had only been earlier. 'Would I have been able to save Kadar from the wound? Would I have managed to stop Malik from losing his arm?' These questions would plague me for the rest of the journey back home.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

We arrive in the city as the sun starts to set. The sight of Nejla and I's badge and Kadar on a stretcher are enough for the guards to let us through. As we pass a send a smile at the younger guard – I sew up his arm a few days ago.

Traveling through the city with horses and a stretcher is bad enough, but luckily we manage to get back to my home/clinic just as it starts to get dark. The first thing I see as we enter the clinic area is Havva and Baki talking softly about something. Already a knot starts to form in my throat. Sliding down the horse I softly address Havva, "Hi."

An angry look blooms across her face as her eyes meet mine. "You!" she hisses. "You didn't save him and now you have the gall to return with a different patient."

"Havva, I'm sorry. I couldn't save him. I was too late," I tell her in the same soft voice, desperate for her to understand.

"You didn't even try," a soft sob escapes her lips. "You just ran off. Didn't even try."

"Havva."

"Now he is dead. He's gone and he is never coming back." Her voice sounds so broken and miserable.

"Havva, please," I beg her. I wanted her to know how much I wanted to save him, but I was too late. His final breath was taken before I reached him.

"NO! You left him. YOU LEFT HIM TO DIE," she screams, turns away and leaves. My heart aches and the look she gave me told me that we weren't friends anymore. I turned to Haru. "Haru will you please help me get Kadar into the clinic," I ask him. Haru nods his head in agreement, but Nejla speaks up from her place in Baki's arms.

"Absolutely not. Baki can help Haru bring your patient in. you are not lifting anything. You haven't moved your arm since you woke up and you have kept it close to you the entire time. Don't even pretend that you are uninjured. You trained me. I have a good eye for these things," She said seriously.

I sigh. "Very well, Baki. If you will help Haru carry Kadar inside I would greatly appreciate it," I say avoiding looking at him.

I hear him say, "Sure." He walks towards where the horses are, pauses by my side to place his hand on my shoulder. "When you are done with your patient please meet me on top of my brewery." I nod and he moves on. I feel sick. I take a deep breath and look up from the ground. I see Nejla offer me a supportive smile.

"It will be okay. Today has just been a really bad day. Tomorrow will be better," she tells me before walking off to join Baki as he leaves the clinic. I stare up at the clouds as tell myself to calm down. It won't do Kadar any good if I have a panic attack or something while healing him. I look at Haru, who is standing by the door.

"Hey, Haru, do you know what happened to my orb?" I ask him and watch a look of extreme distaste bloom over his face.

"It is in one of your bags. I don't care what you do with it as long as I don't know about it or ever see it again," he says. "I need to leave now, Des, I am going to go pick up Omar. See you when we eat. Now go fix up your patient." He waves at me and heads to the archives. I sigh and go through the saddlebags until I get the Apple's black pouch and slip it into my pocket. I pat the horses on their flanks as I leave their stall.

I walk into the clinic and into the separate room for overnight patients. I get all the things I need to finish dressing his wound. Looking at Kadar's wound, I notice that although the wound is mostly healed, there is some sluggish bleeding, but that was probably from how Haru and Baki had to get him inside. I start with softly cleaning the wound with some saltwater, and willow bark salve. The steady motions of caring for a wound allows me to sink into the tunnel vision, where only the wound and the patient matters. Where no other unwanted thoughts could get in.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

Seeing that I am finished with treating Kadar's wound, I realize that I should go meet Baki. The thought alone sends my stomach into knots and makes my throat feel as if it is being choked. I walk out the building and start to climb up to the roof, where Hadi and Baki's brewery is, was. Getting up on the roof, I see him sitting next to the makeshift brewery. His legs hang off the side of the roof and he is staring up at the stars. Beside him there is a flask, probably filled with beer.

"HI," I say plopping down next to him. He nods at me and passes me the flask. I take a gulp of it and feel the bittersweet liquid rush over my tongue. I give the flask back to him.

"You were late," he says and there is no judgment in his voice.

"I know," I whisper. "Sorry." I take another gulp.

"You're not to blame I guess. You wanted to save him but was too late. For all your visions/foreknowledge, you are not a spirit tale hero." he takes the flask back and takes a swig.

"Thanks, for not blaming me."

"I don't need to blame you. You blame yourself enough for two people."

"I'm not gonna answer to that. I just wish I was quick enough to save Hadi. I wish I was quick enough to save Malik."

He finally looks at me. "There was another one."

"Yeah, I was late and Hadi died. I was late and Malik is going to lose his arm."

"I am not going to ask, but think of my guilt. I decided not to go with Hadi today to give the deliveries. I realized he was in trouble and I was still too late. If you feel guilty think of how guilty I feel. I am. I was his twin and older brother. I was supposed to be with him, but I wasn't. So both of us were too late."

I let out a broken sob." I was too late and now Havva hates me. I was too late and Hadi died. How can you not hate me?"

"Desmond, I know you. You are a self-sacrificing idiot that loves too easily and wants nothing more than to save everyone. You have to realize that even though you are not entirely human, you still cannot save everyone and for that you break yourself every day. Besides, you are family and taught me and Hadi all this," he gestures at the brewery." I forgive you for not saving him. I hope that Kadar lives."

"Me too," I say and we pass the flask back and forth for a while, just staring at the stars.

Baki clears his throat. "I also wanted to talk to you about something else."

I look at him. "What?"

He blushes. "Nejla and I are getting married soon."

I feel a smile work itself onto my face despite the tears in my heart. "That's great! When did you ask her?"

He looks down at where his hands rested on the ledge. "I missed going to work to ask her and for that Hadi got himself killed. The stupid asshole," he says bitterly.

"Sorry."

"Its fine, besides Nejla and I decided that we will not feel bad about that. We are going forward with it and after we are married, we will travel."

My heart sinks. "Where to?"

"Don't know yet, but we will probably settle in a different town. I can't be stuck in the same city that my twin was murdered in."

"Okay then. I wish you the best of luck.

"Thanks, Desmond. For the luck wish and for talking and drinking with me. I am going to bed now. Tomorrow I have to go arrange the ceremony with Nejla's father," he says pushing himself up from his sitting position and starts climbing back down to the house.

"Then you will need more than luck. Her father is a wickedly crafty man. "

"Thanks again, but Desmond."

"Yeah?"

"Get some sleep. It has been a rough two days."

"K," I tell him and he disappears from my view. I stare back at the stars. "Fucking, Juno," I whisper and down the last of the beer. Not sober enough to deal with my problems. Not drunk enough for my emotions to make sense. I sigh and somehow manage to get of the roof and into my bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the Apple glow and Juno appear before I shut my eyes. I fall asleep to the feeling of Juno petting my hair.

* * *

_Mimic_

* * *

 Two weeks pass after I brought Kadar to my clinic and I was starting to worry that I messed up and that he won't wake up properly.

I ran a cloth over Kadar's wound cleaning away the old salve and any drift that may have gotten into the wound. I was still in the process of applying new salve and bandages when he let out a groan. I froze as his eyes fluttered open and locked onto mine. I force myself to continue as a feel how he studies me. "Are you Ibn-La'Ahad?" he croaks out.

I pause. 'In the literal sense I was as my father was not yet born and in my time I chose not to acknowledge him as such.' I narrow my eyes at him. "Yes, I am. I hope you do not have a problem with that?" I tell him mindful of how an ordinary person would react when asked such a question.

He sits up quickly and shakes his head that causes him to grimace immediately. I give him a pitying look and offer him a glass of water. "Here drink, it will help with the dizziness and with your undoubtedly dry mouth."

"Thanks," he whispers and greedily drinks the water. His nose scrunched up at the taste of willow in the water.

A soft laugh escapes me at the betrayed look on his face as I gestor at him to finish the drink. "What was in it to make it taste so bad?" he spits out.

"It has willow bark powder in it to help with pain. Most of my drinking water has some in it," I tell him pleased that he was healed enough to complain about the taste of the water.

He looks at me as I finish checking the tightness of his bandages. "Why?" comes his question.

"What do you mean?"

"Why do I you have a powder for pain mixed into your water?"

I unwrap part of my left arm revealing the blackened skin underneath. His face flashes with surprise, horror, and then understanding.

"Does it hurt?" he asked and looks so very young.

"Most days it is just a dull throbbing pain, but sometimes infection sets in and the pain is so bad that I can't move from my bed," I tell him with a shrug as I re-bandage my hand.

"How long ago did it happen?" I look at him and he looks curious, yet scared of my answer.

"It has been three years, but that does not matter, Kadar. This is the first time you are truly awake since I picked you up a week ago. So you must be hungry. If you like I can help you out so that you can eat with us," I tell him not noticing the flinch following me saying his name.

"How do you know my name?" he asks suspicion filling his voice.

'Oh shit,' I think. "You told to me," I lie.

I watch the confusion fill his eyes. "When did I do that?"

"The first day that you woke up after you called me an angel," I tell him mixing my lie with a bit of truth.

An adorable flush covers his cheeks. "OH," he stutters.

"So would you like me to help you to the fire?" I ask him.

"Yes, I would like that." He nods and I help him up. I bring his arm around my neck and together we hobble outside. In the courtyard I see Havva and she looks up from where she was pouring some soup into Omar's bowl. I feel my heart shatter at the look she sends me and Kadar. It is filled with hate and pain. 'It has been 2 weeks since Hadi died and I miss him as much as she does, but she still avoids me and spits hurtful words at me when she can't avoid me. It hurts, but the lack of her by my side hurts more than all the words and the hate,' I think to myself.

"Here," she spits out after Kadar and I sit down and she hands us each a bowl of soup.

"Thanks," I say really meaning it. Her hand touches mine as she passes the bowl and I ache even more as I long for the touch of the woman I consider my sister.

"Hope it burns your throat or you chock on it," she snarls in response to my comment. She spins on her heels and marches away.

"She hasn't eaten anything," I hear Kadar note beside me.

"No, she hasn't," I agree with him. My eyes distant as I get lost in my loneliness. A loud hum from Omar brings my attention back to the moment. "Sorry," I say sheepishly. I place the bowl on my lap and gesture at the people sitting around. "Everyone this is Kadar, as you know he has been in my tender care for two weeks now." A chorus of hellos and heys answer my statement as well as a horrified sound from Kadar.

His arms go slack out of the half-raised wave. "Two weeks?!" he exclaims in horror and I suddenly feel terrible for him.

"Yes," I nod. "You were almost dead when I found you. You are honestly lucky to be awake much less breathing right now," I tell him watching as his face become progressively paler as my words register in his mind.

"I almost died," he says.

I nod again. "Yes, and I will be keeping you in my clinic for a week at least before your family can pick you up or until I say you are healthy enough to travel."

He nods at my words still looking lost and I am so grateful that no one says anything, but rather continues to eat in silence.

"Anyways," I say softly. "As I was saying. This is Omar," I point at the boy in scholar white. "He can't talk, but that doesn't mean he isn't the sassiest person know." Omar waves and sticks his tongue out at me before signing something rude to me. I burst out laughing and I can see that even though Kadar is confused he looks a bit amused. "This is old Aqeel and Erma, Aqeel is blind but he will hit you with his cane if you insult him. Erma will adopt you if you are not careful though," I tell him pointing at the old man and woman sitting next to each other.

"It is nice to see you awake young man, I was starting to think that Desmond took a hopeless case, but I shouldn't have doubted them, they always come through in the end," she says and I flush at the praise.

Kadar gives a little wave.

"This is Dareen and Dana," I say pointing to the two young girls sitting next to Omar. Dareen's dad and uncle are away so I am watching her and Dana is practically my kid. Though if you aren't careful they just might make you play with them," I tell him in a playfully warning tone.

"Desmond," they whine. "You spoiled our hunt, Desmond. How are we supposed to do a surprise attack now?" Dareen pouts and Dana follows her example.

I laugh and point at the last person around the pot," This is Haru he helped me bring you to the clinic."

Haru nods his head and continues to eat.

"The woman who gave us our soup is Havva. She is angry at me. "

"OK," he says. "It is nice to meet all of you."

The rest of the meal passes in silence. At one point I see Kadar almost choke on the soup, but otherwise, he seems fine and I am glad that the soup was little more than broth today. It would be easier on his stomach.

"I'll clean the dishes up," signs Omar and I thank him. With Haru's help, I manage to get Kadar back to his cot. He passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow and I feel guilty. 'Must have been ruff for him to wake up sounded by strangers and then to find out that not only did he almost die but he has been out for almost 2 weeks,' I think to myself as I walk outside. Erma comes and taps me on the shoulder.

"Yes?" I ask her. She just pulls me into a hug and I allow myself to cry, to mourn not only the death of Hadi, but also the loss of my best friend. I sob out all the stress of trying to keep Kadar alive because I already failed one person. I can't fail another. I sob out my fear, my fear of failing to keep him alive, my fear of never having Havva forgive me. I just sob until I can't anymore and then I sob some more. I don't know how long I stood there in Erma's arms being comforted, being allowed to grieve, but when I finally have no more tears to cry I don't feel better, but I feel okay and I guess that is good enough.

"Better?" she asks.

"No," I say, the sound is muffled against her chest. "But I will be and that is good enough." she nods and just holds me.

She pulls back but keeps her hands on my shoulders and looks up into my eyes. "Now Desmond, you go drink the tea that Aqeel made for you and sleep." A cup gets pushed into my hands and I try to protest. "No, Kadar isn't dying anymore and I will keep watch overnight." I want to protest because she is old and I can do it. Before I can say anything Haru interrupts.

"You have been awake for 5 straight days, you are frayed at the edges and this is exactly why you shouldn't keep sending your apprentices off two different cities after you train them," he tells me. "Besides I will take over after Erma gets tired. You need rest Desmond. No arguments."

I sigh knowing that I won't win this argument. "Fine, but if anything goes wrong, wake me. Got it?"

"Yes, yes stop worrying. Now go to sleep," Haru says and I walk up to my room. I sip the tea and enjoy the calming feeling that follows every sip. It is only a few stairs, but as soon as I get to the top I feel exhausted and the bed looks really comfortable. My eyes seal shut as I lay down and I can't find a good reason why I should open them again. Sleep really sounds good right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to everyone who subscribed to, left kudos, or bookmarked this Fic. Every bit of support is appreciated. Shout out to Alex_R and Valshaena who left a comment. It really helped me get this chapter out.
> 
> All the usual no beta if you see a mistake you can leave it in a comment. If you enjoyed this fic please consider subscribing, bookmarking commenting or leaving kudos I would really appreciate it.
> 
> Silent out. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> So hi everyone. This is the first fic that I am writing that I am actually planning to turn into a multi-chaptered fic. But I am terrible at deadlines and have to worry about my studies so a regular update schedule is a far fetched dream. Hope you like it and if you do consider following and maybe leaving a review. Also, I don't have a Beta so all this is un-betaed until I get someone to beta read this for me. Therefore if you see any mistakes please point them out to me. Thanks.
> 
> Anyways Silent out. ;)


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